Signs That Can't Be Learned
by Artemis Rae
Summary: There’s a fine line between the duties of the Avatar and the duties of a family man. Sometimes Katara can’t help but wonder where Aang’s allegiance lays. Slightly angsty Kataang one shot.


**Title**: Signs That Can't Be Learned  
**Rating**: K  
**Summary**: There's a fine line between the duties of the Avatar and the duties of a family man. Sometimes Katara can't help but wonder where Aang's allegiance lays. Post-series, background Maiko.  
**A/N**: Here's a slightly angsty one shot I wrote the other night. I haven't written Kataang in a while, and the issues surrounding Aang as both the Avatar and the last airbender are some that I've been meaning to explore in Aang and Katara's relationship.

* * *

There were few things more disconcerting to Katara than waking up alone; something about waking up in a quiet bed (or, as was often the case with Aang, curled up against one of Appa's giant paws) to find herself alone, everything silent, made her shiver. It was a little fear she'd always kept to herself, because if she'd ever tried to explain to anyone they'd have simply laughed and made a joke about being a newlywed, despite the fact that she had been married almost two and a half years at this point.

That wasn't the reason at all – it was something that had started even before her mother had died, if for no other reason than there were always people around her when she went to bed. They had usually slept huddled together to conserve heat, and waking up alone meant waking up cold. Once she'd started traveling with Aang, waking up alone had meant something terrible had happened to her companions, and once she'd married Aang waking up alone almost always meant that Aang had been pulled from bed for some Avatar-ly duty and hadn't wanted to bother her – which she actually preferred, because Aang getting up _without_ her generally meant lonely mornings, afternoons, and in extreme cases, long nights without him.

So when she found herself blinking up into the darkness that was the scarlet canopy over her bed, awakened by some mental alarm clock, and rolled over to find that Aang was not next to her, snoring softly as she had expected, she couldn't help the way she instantly became fully awake, her heart picking up speed as she sat up and rolled out of bed without bothering to look for slippers.

Her first thought was that Zuko must have pulled Aang from bed – the reigning Fire Lord _was_ the reason she was sleeping under a red canopy to begin with. It was a combination of things that had lead to her and Aang staying in the Fire Palace for several extended weeks, but Zuko's frazzled temper had been the chief among them.

They'd initially arrived for the naming ceremony of the royal family's newest crown princess, a tiny little thing that had taken after her mother, to Zuko's endless relief. They'd stayed after the child had quickly made it known that she was colicky, driving both her father (who was still in tentative negotiations for peace treaties and reparations) and her mother (who had the far more important, if underappreciated, job of keeping Zuko's court stable) up a wall.

Of course, they weren't staying because the young parents needed help – oh no. As it was, Zuko and Mai barely trusted themselves with the girl. Leaving her with a nanny for a few hours to take care of court business was a tortuous process. No, Katara and Aang were there on official state business, and, well, if Katara could simply extend some of her healing ability towards soothing the little girl's cries for a few hours, _that_ was just an added bonus.

That was what had initially woken Katara up; Mai would be feeding (because, to the chagrin of much of the court, the Fire Lady found the idea of wet nurses to be downright repulsive) and would be struggling to get the baby to settle down again.

With an apprehensive sigh she paused in the doorway and looked back at the empty bed, with the covers balled up in the middle of the mattress. Finally, with a relenting slump to her shoulders, she turned out of the room and headed towards the Princess' nursery instead of towards Zuko's meditation chamber, where he usually pulled Aang when there were pressing issues in the middle of the night.

As she made her way down the hallway – still barefoot, and without a dressing gown – she mentally steeled herself for the usual trial she faced whenever she went to help with the baby. It wasn't that she and Mai didn't get along; they were polite enough, and could work together despite the fact that Katara almost always failed to understand Mai's dry sense of humor and Mai usually frowned whenever Katara got passionate about something. There was no doubt that Mai appreciated the help and Katara enjoyed putting her extensive skills to use.

What really bothered her was the baby.

There was no doubt in her mind that children were in her future – she and Aang had talked about it, a little bit, before they'd been married, and they had both agreed that when things had settled down some, when they could provide a stable environment for their children, then it would happen.

That day was rapidly approaching, if it hadn't come already. Outside of the occasional extended trip to the Fire Nation or one of the Water Tribes, she and Aang were pretty well settled near Kyoshi Island. Sokka had started to hint very heavily that he was ready to become an uncle – and had, more than once, called Toph "Aunt Badgermole". She couldn't be sure, but based upon some of the things Aang had said she suspected that Sokka had teased the Avatar about the fact that Zuko had beaten them to a kid.

So there really wasn't anything stopping them – in fact, more people were surprised by the fact that they hadn't had any children yet than those who weren't – except for her own tiny, secret fears; fears she'd buried deep down and refused to discuss with Aang, simply because she was afraid of the answer she'd receive.

There were the basic fears, such as her fear of being a mother after losing her own so young, and the fear of raising a child when Aang was so well known throughout the world, but the worst fear, the greatest of them, was that Aang simply didn't want a baby of his own.

She never had doubts that Aang loved her, as a member of his family and as the love of his life; he'd loved her before he even knew he was allowed to love her, and if what had been hinted at before was true (because Aang had never come right out and told her), then she was the reason that he'd never mastered the Avatar State. The fact that she could be that important to someone was both guilt-inducing and awe-inspiring.

So there really should have been no doubt – if Aang could love her that much, just imagine how much he would love a child created by both of them – except that sometimes she worried that what Aang wanted was not a family but simply more airbenders.

It was a serious thing to accuse him of, and she knew he'd be terribly hurt if she ever vocalized her fear, but the thought was still there. She had thought once that she might be able to relate to him a little tiny bit, being the last waterbender in the South Pole, but when it came down to it she had no idea how he felt: what it must have been like to remember when there was life where there were now empty monuments.

She couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to be the only chance for those empty monuments to come to life again.

Aang had never shirked his Avatar duties, and while she knew she was important to him, she was afraid to find out which would be most important in this case. Could Aang love a waterbender, or even a non-bender, like he would love an airbender? Her immediate answer was always yes, but the doubt was still underneath, and it was persistent. Katara was unwilling to take a chance and find out, just in case.

So while she could stand the teasing and the winking and the hinting, she couldn't help the way her heart clenched a little bit every time she looked at Mai and Zuko's daughter, at what she and Aang could have if only she were sure.

For a long moment she stood outside the door to the nursery, blinking at the door and listening carefully. She didn't hear the baby crying – in fact, she could hear the baby cooing softly – and for a long minute she was tempted to just turn around and go and find her husband, or go back to her warm little bed.

Then Katara decided that it couldn't hurt to at least peek in and cracked the door open to check.

It was to her surprise that it was neither the Fire Lord nor the Fire Lady up with their child; it was _Aang_ who was gently step bouncing around the room with the little girl on his hip. For a moment she was torn between exasperation (of course he would be up with the baby and not managing world affairs) and amusement (he was making faces at her and she wasn't even looking at him) but then Aang shifted and changed course unexpectedly, and she froze in her tracks.

The little princess' face started scrunching up, displeased with this change in tempo that Aang had forced upon her, and the look on his face was one of absolute panic.

"Nooo no no no," he shushed quietly, moving the baby from one hip to the other. "Nooo reason to cry, you'll wake up Mommy, and she'll wake up Katara, and it's okay, I have you…"

The baby continued to hiccup and struggle, a prelude to the ear-splitting shrieks that were soon to start. Katara let Aang spend another frantic minute trying to placate the princess before she stepped all the way into the room. Despite the chagrined look on his face, there was definitely also relief.

"I tried," he said, slightly embarrassed as she reached for the baby. She merely gave him a tired smile and started to rock the baby herself.

"Where's Mai?" Katara asked quietly, trying not to wince as the girl grabbed her braid with both hands and tugged. Instead of trying to break the infant's weak grip, Katara allowed her to keep it.

"I sent her back to bed. She'd been up with her almost all night." Aang's reply was vague, and he wasn't making eye contact with her.

"Well why didn't you put her in her crib when she stopped crying?" Katara asked gently. She couldn't help the way her eyebrows rose when Aang grimaced.

He shrugged. "I liked holding her."

Katara just snorted and shook her head before settling into the little rocking chair situated in the middle of the room under the skylight – Zuko wanted to allow as much light as possible into the room. Aang hovered anxiously for a moment, and just as Katara opened her mouth – she wasn't sure for what; probably to order him back to bed – he took a deep breath and stepped in front of her, saying her name gently on the exhale.

She craned her head back to look at him – he'd gotten tall, and he'd broadened over the years, and from this angle he almost covered the skylight entirely; in fact, what moonlight was shining through served to surround him with an almost ethereal sort of halo – and asked gently, "What's the matter, Aang?"

"Do you think," he said slowly, as if he were picking his words with considerable thought, "that we might – that it's time that we thought about – maybe - ?"

She blinked at him, and wanted to pretend that she didn't know what he was talking about even though she _did_; she knew _exactly_ where he was going with this train of thought. "I've thought about it," she admitted quietly, stroking the dark hairs across the baby's head and not looking at him.

"I mean, I know it's a big deal, and everything will change and…" he trailed off. Katara got the sense there was something he was trying to say without actually saying it. "I mean, I know if we do… have one of our own, it'll be a big deal, and not just to us, to everybody. But… I'm not afraid," Aang said, and there was an undertone of wistfulness there. "And I don't want you to be either. Just in case."

"Afraid?" she repeated blankly, and wondered if she'd been talking in her sleep.

"You know," Aang prodded. "Pressured. People are going to want… certain skills, from our kids."

He was dancing around the subject, or maybe he wanted her to acknowledge it. Finally she swallowed hard and supplied for him, "You mean airbenders."

"Yeah." Aang nodded. "But… I don't even know what decides that, and I don't think you should care what other people say."

She blinked at that statement, and mouthed wordlessly at him. He added a hasty, "You know, if you even want to." Still, all she could do was stare at him.

She'd been afraid for him, and he'd been afraid for her.

Finally, relief mixed with a bit of anticipation bloomed throughout her. Katara let out a nervous little giggle. "I'm not afraid Aang," she said. "I'm not worried."

"Good," he said firmly, reaching to take the (now quiet, eyes drooping) baby from her arms. "Because I'm not either."

"When it happens," Katara shrugged and ran her fingers through the loose end of her braid. "It'll happen."

Aang just nodded, and they both sat in silence for a moment. Something had happened, something had passed between them; a silent agreement or understanding. They were on the same page. They knew what they wanted. It was right. It was good.

"Come on," Katara whispered, trying not to break the spell that had fallen over them. "She's asleep now. Put her in the crib and come back to bed with me."


End file.
